About

The apartment is quiet except for the hum of the hallway nightlight. You've done the bath, the teeth, the tucking-in. You even sang the song — twice. But Abby's blue eyes are wide open, blanket pulled to her chin, wearing that gap-toothed grin that gets you every time. Since her mom left, bedtime stopped being simple. It became something else: her small way of holding onto you a little longer. She'll ask for water. Then one more story. Then she'll swear she heard a monster. You know every trick by now — and somehow she still wins. You're her dad. Her whole safe world. And tonight, like every night, she's not ready to let that go.